


Homesick at a Space (Hotel)

by orphan_account



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Fall Out Boy
Genre: (this is what happens when i listen to too much tbh+c), 2011 patrick and pete, AU, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arctic Monkeys - Freeform, Based off Arctic Monkey's Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, Fluff, M/M, Soul Punk Era Patrick Stump, and also on the moon, except it's...set in 2085, i will likely end up making way too many homesick at space camp jokes, something of a space opera i suppose, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14735696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "The moon's just real estate to them. And besides, when everything's online, who wants to see some boring old stars anyway? That's what they think."[Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, established 2081.]A technological marvel, the first hotel on the moon. In a world where the human race collectively embraces every advancement in every aspect of their lives, it was bound to be a success.Two unlikely strangers meet in the bar, by chance. One desperate to escape the world and its burdens. One who just wanted to see the stars for real.





	Homesick at a Space (Hotel)

**Author's Note:**

> First things first, I'm absolutely in love with Arctic Monkeys' new album and the concept behind it. It inspired me to really think about the setting they've begun to establish and expand on it, and I think it brings up some really interesting topics I want to explore further - all, of course, in a Fall Out Boy fic. Hence: this fic, which I've really loved writing (and you might just spot AM themselves make a little cameo.) Enjoy!

Somber, velvety jazz music wafted across the dimly-lit room, muffled chatter mingling with the slow drone of a saxophone and gentle crooning. The singer's words melted together like warm butter, in a way that was too good for its designated role as background music; singing about something he couldn't quite piece together as he turned his attention the the lyrics. At least there was live music anyway. He had to give them that, despite everything. This was the last place he'd expected to have a house band, to put it lightly.    
  
" _ Still got pictures of friends on the wall..." _ __  
  
The bleach-blonde man sat alone at the bar, one hand running through his hair and the other clutching a half-empty glass of white wine. The ambient lighting cast warm highlights on his face, and even darker, dramatic shadows framed his features. A bow tie hung undone around his neck, formerly crisp white shirt crumpled with sleeves rolled up - dishevelled for no particular reason except for tiredness. Somewhat disregarding the refinery of the setting, maybe, but at this point, he didn't care. He'd rather be left alone. 

 

_ “I suppose we aren’t really friends anymore…” _

  
He's remarkably sober. He'd never been one for copious amounts of alcohol, but he's been sitting at the bar for hours and only downed a glass and a half. Mostly, he'd been thinking. Maybe made a little bit of small talk with the bartender, or politely declined a drunken advance. But mostly, thinking about what he was doing.   
What was he doing when he'd booked his flight? A tiny glimmer of hope had shone through that day - just like, he hoped, those stars would glimmer when he finally saw them. He should have known in hindsight that not even the moon was free from that suffocating gentrification.   
Three more weeks here. He'd told himself to try and enjoy it - you've paid money for this, get the most out of it - but there was a certain pit in his stomach that wouldn't go away. Less regret, more...quiet disappointment. The kind where not much is expected, but that tiny little flicker of hope fuelling it is stomped out. Yes, he thought, that was a good way of putting it.

 

_ “Maybe I shouldn't ever have called that thing friendly at all….” _

He takes another small sip from his glass, catching sight of a sympathetic look from a woman opposite, clearly enamoured with her own partner and the holographic screen shared between them. 

He wasn’t sure why people looked upon others with such pity - in this place least of all. Sure, he was on his own, and he was far past the point where he was bothered to keep his clothes pristine and tidy. But clearly he was well enough to make his way down to a lounge bar - on the moon, no less - and not having a partner wouldn’t change that. He was fine on his own, he repeated to himself once more - but then he noticed the woman had shifted her gaze past him with a small nod. 

 

_ “Get freaked out from a knock at the door, _

_ When I haven’t been expecting one…” _

 

He heard a chair scrape behind him, and all of a sudden, he had company.

He instinctively shrunk back into his seat - begging, no,  _ praying _ , that he wouldn’t have to talk, That they’d both just mind their own business and sit there, or even better, his own friends would come and he’d be completely alleviated of the stress of the stranger who’d just shown up. 

The man who’d taken his seat beside him looked tired - but unlike him, he’d kept up something on an effort to look presentable. Tan brown skin, dark hair that spiked upward. He wore a grey suit jacket over a shirt with a still-done-up tie, in a stark contrast to the man beside him.  

“Anyone sitting here?”

The blonde hunched his shoulders slightly - something of a defense mechanism. There went his hopes of a relatively quiet night. For a moment, he considered lying, but realised that all the evidence surrounding him was to the contrary.

 

_ “Didn't that used to be part of the fun, once upon a time?” _

 

“No, it’s fine.”

The other man nodded, and ordered a shot. He quickly downed it, before turning to the person to his left.

“I’m Pete. You here on your own?”

With something of a reluctance, he answered. “Name’s Patrick. And yeah, I am. Evidently, you aren’t.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“That woman over there. She got you to sit here, right?” Patrick glanced at the woman in question, happily chatting among her friends. 

Pete exhaled with a nod of recognition. “Ahhhh,  _ her!  _ I just met her here. About an hour ago. In the lobby. She’s sweet. And completely invested in making sure I’m not alone on the moon.”

“You met her an hour ago?”

“Yeah. I left everyone else back on Earth, I guess. Make friends where you can.”

 

_ “We'll be there at the back of the bar...” _

 

Patrick took a sip of wine again. He’d never admit it, but he was intrigued by this stranger - Pete. How he was so willing to talk to people, trust them. And why he was here.

“Are you going to go back?”

“Maybe. I don’t think so. There wasn’t much there for me anyway. You?”

Now Patrick was well and truly fascinated - which surprised him, to an extent. Normally, he was downright bored by stranger’s lives, especially when they all seemed to be a repetition of the same upper-class story. But something about Pete was different, and he got the feeling there was more to him beneath the surface. There had to be. 

 

_ “In a booth like we usually were....” _

 

“Planning on going back home in three weeks. I’ve got my brothers back there, after all, and the rest of my family. And I guess the moon’s not really living up to the hype, to be completely honest.”

“Literal outer space not living up the the hype?” Pete stared at Patrick like he’d just expressed a sudden desire to perform a ritual sacrifice. 

“No, no, not space exactly…” Patrick explained with a small laugh. “Space and stars and planets and all that are amazing. It’s just you can’t see any of it here. I don’t know...I came expecting to see stars in real life, none of that virtual reality stuff everyone’s got. And Tranquility Base just ended up being a miniature, richer Earth. It’s like they think that nobody actually cares about space. And maybe they’re right. I mean, look around.”

Pete finished off another shot. “I get what you’re saying. Never really been interested in that VR bullshit or anything. The only way you can actually get a fresh start in life is to actually get away. Go anywhere that isn’t where you used to be, as far away as possible. Trust me on that, Patrick.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song that the lounge band (no prizes for guessing who they are) were singing is The Ultracheese by Arctic Monkeys. The entire song was extremely fitting for the fic, I thought - and not just because of the album it's off.


End file.
